


DRTO, Krakoa

by BlackBat09



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Bestiality, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26753386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackBat09/pseuds/BlackBat09
Summary: Landshark puppies, shockingly, grow into adolescent landsharks. And adolescent landsharks are curious in the way many adolescents are.
Relationships: Quentin Quire/Jeff the Land Shark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19
Collections: DC and Marvel Kinktober Fills





	DRTO, Krakoa

**Author's Note:**

> this is Kinktober Day 1, **Bestiality** &// Animal Transformation.
> 
> DRTO is the abbreviation for Dry Tortugas National Park, a nurse shark mating ground in Florida which is where most data about shark mating habits come from.

"Quire!"

Quentin sighs from his perch, laid out across a tree branch, one leg dangling with the occasional kick, his mind intertwined with the living, breathing earth around him, and opens one eye to look down, down, down the tree at Logan, his mouth set in its usual sullen line. There’s a box on one of his shoulders, almost comically large, and Quentin knows it’s his regular delivery of Canadian rye; the Red Queen must be home.

 _"What,"_ he answers, reaching for Logan's mind instead of raising his voice, and he feels his sourness before the man continues to call up to him the regular way.

"Marauders got somethin' for you. Kate's 'bout to throw it over if you don't hurry it up."

Quentin blinks and then rolls sideways off the branch, feeling that brief spike of adrenaline in Logan before he catches himself with his powers, floating to land lightly in front of him. A scowl meets his grin, and Quentin tucks his hands in his pockets, rocking lightly on his heels.

"I didn't ask them for anything." He gets a bland stare in return.

"Didn't ask if you did. They're out west. Might wanna move."

Pushing off the island once more, Quentin gives Logan a lazy salute before flying off into the trees, emerging from the canopy to look out over the island, see the Marauder sitting in the clear blue waters, crates and boxes scattered across the beach as people pick through them. Kate stands at the top of the gangplank, her mind abuzz with impatience, and Quentin nudges it, watches her tilt her head back and shield her eyes with one red-gloved hand to catch sight of him.

Relief and exasperation flicker through her thoughts; _it's about damn time;_ and she calls something into the ship that Quentin misses with the rush of wind in his ears, spiraling down to the beach and sinking into the sand a little when he lands.

"Logan said you got me something. You been missing me that much, teach?" he asks, hands back in his pockets as he pushes hard against the beach, forces himself forward despite the shift of sand beneath his feet. Kate simply fixes him with a look, just like Logan, as something clangs and scrabbles across the metal deck of the ship's hold, as Bishop's shouts echo from inside.

"Not even a little."

"Incoming!"

A streak of gray bounds out of the ship and Quentin barely has time to register what it is before it barrels into him, knocking him back onto the beach before a heavy tongue drags over his face, glasses pushed askew and mohawk ruined by excited licking. He scrabbles his hands out of the sand to push it away, hissing when the rough grain of sharkskin grates across his palms, adding a telekinetic barrier before he pushes again.

"Hey- Jeff, Jeff!" The landshark stops his greeting, tongue lolling out of his mouth, whole body wiggling with wags of his thick tail, and Quentin uses one hand to fix his glasses as he stares up at what used to be simply a shark puppy incredulously, peeking around the mass of his gray body to look at Kate and a frazzled Bishop. "How the fuck did he get so big?"

A smile finally quirks at Kate's mouth, and even Quentin's flat look doesn't stop her from replying, "Well, he was a puppy, wasn't he? And puppies grow up..."

"Ha ha." Shark slobber drips onto Quentin's neck and he makes a soft retching noise, powers holding Jeff at bay as he squirms out from under his huge mass, sitting up in the sand to get a good look at him. "I know that, but- shit." Leaning in, he rubs a hand under Jeff's chin, setting off his excited wiggles again as Quentin murmurs, "What'd Deadpool feed you, buddy?"

"Speaking of Deadpool," Kate clears her throat, "King Wade Winston Wilson of Monster Island has tasked you, Quentin Quire, with watching over Jeff the Landshark, First of His Name, on his Rumspringa, until which time he either returns to Monster Island or decides to stay with you."

He blinks as he rubs the sides of Jeff's head, almost shaken by the force of his squirming. "Is Monster Island Amish now?"

Kate's eyes roll so hard Quentin can almost hear it. "It's Deadpool, Quentin, I don't know."

"Fair." His hand slips once before he plants it firmly enough to get to his feet, dusting sand off his ass and shaking out his jacket before he rubs his hand against Jeff's head, getting a pleased murp in return that makes him smile softly. "I got him from here."

"Thank God," Bishop mutters, and Kate snorts softly, elbowing her shipmate as Quentin leads the shark off the beach.

Jeff seems more than happy to trot through the woods, following the path Krakoa shapes in front of them as Quentin himself tries to get a look at Jeff, see what's changed. Stretching out as he flies next to him confirms Jeff's definitely longer than he is tall, and the top of his head comes up to Quentin's waist walking upright- it's honestly a little startling, to see how big he's gotten in what feels like such a short time. The other sharks had been plenty big, so he supposes it's not too unreasonable, but, honestly, Jeff had been a purse shark.

He pauses to wander off the path a little and sniff at a tree before rubbing up against it, the thought of rough bark on rough skin making Quentin's skin crawl, and Quentin can feel Krakoa respond with interest, hear the hiss of moving flora as the island curls to get a closer look. It takes a moment, it seems, but Krakoa recognizes Jeff, and Quentin follows him off the path to lay a hand on his head, patting him gently. "Yeah. He got big, didn't he?"

The feeling Krakoa expresses, the slow bloom of flowers at Quentin's feet, tells him that _all things grow_ , and Quentin scoffs, gesturing Jeff back towards the path home. Even the island is sassing Quentin.

His sliding back doors are a relief when they finally reach the home Quentin planted for himself, opening them up to let Jeff bound inside instead of trying to force him through the front door, the excitable shark doing laps in Quentin's kitchen before moving into the living room, bumping curiously into everything he can reach until Quentin trails into the house, closing the doors behind him. The eagerly wiggling monster zips over to Quentin, winding in circles around him, scratchy skin tugging at his clothes as his tail waggles, knocking into one of the barstools at Quentin's island that he rights with his powers, patting Jeff's back at the same time.

"Alright, alright, I'm glad to see you, too. Relax, dude." Jeff stops underneath his arm so Quentin can keep patting him as he turns his head to nuzzle at Quentin's belly, panting and growling happily when Quentin's hand glides up his dorsal fin, petting the ridge gently. "You really grew up, huh?"

Jeff purrs back at him, wiggling against his side, and he laughs quietly, patting his back.

"Probably hungry after that trip, aren't you, buddy? Just relax, I got stuff," Quentin assures him, lifting his hand and getting a disappointed whine as the shark bumps his snout against Quentin again, big black eyes staring up at him. He pouts back at him, teasing, scratching lightly at the base of his dorsal fin. “Or I can just keep petting you and doing nothing else because you’re a needy baby, aren’t you? Aren’t you, Jeff?”

Huffing a laugh, Quentin keeps a hand on the landshark's back as he leads him into the living room, kicking off his boots before he flops onto the couch, legs curled under him, and pats the cushions beside him. Jeff follows eagerly, the couch creaking when he hops up, and Quentin laughs as he hushes him, attacked again by Jeff's tongue as he eagerly waggles, kissing Quentin's whole face.

"Hey, hey, settle! Settle down, just relax," he soothes, urging him to lay down with his head on Quentin's lap, tail still twitching as Quentin rubs behind his eyes, scratches at his snout and the base of his fins, pets his hands over Jeff's broad gray back. "There we go. Good boy. Good boy."

The shark whimpers, squirming closer to Quentin until his front paws are laid across his lap, prompting more shushing and pets as he tries to keep Jeff from crushing him entirely, laughing softly as his tongue lolls out of his mouth when Quentin scratches just right. Nothing seems to settle him fully, though, claws catching and tugging in Quentin's shorts as Jeff paws at his lap, carefully extracting them every time before the landshark forgoes his paws entirely, opening his jaws so wide Quentin swears he can see straight down his throat before sinking his big teeth into the front of Quentin's shirt.

"Hey! Jeff, what the fuck, dude!" He tries pushing him off, but the shark is stubborn, holding fast, and Quentin supposes he's lucky the monster only bit his clothes, even if he's not too pleased about it. Jeff only shuffles closer as Quentin tries to pry his jaws off of him, again scratching him with clumsy paws as Jeff jerks and squirms.

The insistent motion of his body against the cushions makes it all click for Quentin, watching the rut of his hips for a moment before he shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Uh-uh. Nope. No way in hell.

Jeff's big eyes shine up at him, though, a little whine muffled by Quentin's clothes in his mouth, and Quentin has to shut his eyes as heat rises in his face. He is not considering this.

His palm glides over Jeff's back before trailing down, stroking his underbelly gently as the shark growls into his chest, trying to gather his courage before his hand slips further back, attempting to feel out the situation that Jeff is grinding up against his couch.

"Jesus." There's two, first and foremost, all sandpaper skin and heavy muscle like the rest of Jeff, and, as he humps them into Quentin's palm, he can tell they're nearly as long as his hand, wrist to fingertips. A shudder crawls up Quentin's spine- nervous, conflicted- as he carefully curls his fingers around them, feeling out the long, tapered oval shapes, before squeezing gently, and Jeff growls louder, releasing Quentin's shirt for a moment before snapping his jaws in the fabric again, his hand yanked back to show Jeff open palms, empty hands, trying to placate him.

"Shhh-shh-shh, it's okay. It's okay, bud. You were pent up in a few ways on the ride over, huh?" he soothes, a curious murp answering him before Jeff resumes his humping and pawing at Quentin's clothes, clearly frustrated. Quentin strokes his head with a deep breath, gathering courage before he reaches down around the landshark's grip in his shirt to loosen his belt, popping the button on his shorts before squirming them down his legs, kicking them off his legs and onto the floor as best he can with Jeff still half-sprawled in his lap, his phone in his pocket landing with a dull thud. It's a fiddly process, but Jeff doesn't seem to mind, content to tug and yank at Quentin's shirt as the young telepath reaches under his boxers to stroke himself, shuddering when he finds a hint of wet warmth already there.

"You're a sick fuck, Quintavius Quire," he sighs out, but it doesn't stop his fingers sliding between his lips, gathering wetness to stroke across the warm bud of his clit, and it doesn't stop the heat gathering low in his belly, sinking between his thighs, and it doesn't stop his cunt from throbbing as he teases his hole, finger curling to stroke his walls as it presses inside. Jeff isn't too thick, from what he felt, but there's fucking two of them, and Quentin's not exactly up to date on the etiquette and mechanics of shark dicks, so he takes his time, slowly working himself open with his fingers, hips pushing to meet them in a motion that makes Jeff's anxious squirming still, tilting his head to fix Quentin with a black-eyed stare.

It makes him blush- fucking blush, being looked at by a weird little genetic experiment- but Jeff's stillness means they can hear the soft, slick sound of three fingers in Quentin's pussy, of his shuddering breaths when his thumb rubs at his hard clit, and he hears Jeff sniff and snuffle a couple times before he growls, the low noise making Quentin's walls clench around his fingers. "Yeah, Jeff? You smell that, huh?" he asks, voice quiet and husky, stroking the ridge of his dorsal fin with his free hand before he reaches under Jeff again for his claspers, rubbing them gently with his palm and getting an eager rut of the shark's hips in return. "M'almost ready. Gonna need you to let go for a second if you want it, though."

The landshark rumbles again, seemingly ignoring Quentin in favor of twisting and jerking his whole body, tail swishing as he tugs and shakes Quentin's shirt in his jaws, but, when Quentin feels ready, pulling his soaked fingers out of his boxers, Jeff easily lets go, panting eagerly and following the guiding push of Quentin's hand so he can lick the slick from his digits. "Shit."

This is- a terrible idea. He can already tell, from the coarse feeling of Jeff's skin to the uncertain anatomy of his cocks, but Quentin's pussy is wet, open, and he all-too-eagerly sheds his boxers, standing off the couch and pushing his coffee table towards the wall with his powers to make room on the rug for himself. His shirt and blazer stay on; if Jeff wants to bite, he'd rather it be clothes than meat; as he sinks to the floor on all fours, debating the merits of his glasses before pulling them off and sending them to sit on the coffee table, hopefully out of reach of the landshark's powerful wiggles.

He hears a curious chirp and glances back at Jeff, squinting to see him sitting on his haunches on the couch, twin claspers hanging away from his underbelly as his tongue lolls goofily from his mouth. Quentin snorts softly, dragging a hand over his face before he sighs and then clicks his tongue. "C'mere, Jeff. Come on, boy."

The landshark hops from the couch and trots over to Quentin, circling him a few times before stopping to lick his face, tail thumping against the wall before Quentin gets a hand up to push him off, his elbow keeping him at bay as he wipes his face off and squints at him. "Not what I meant, dude." Scratching under Jeff's chin and getting a content purr, he guides him around his body gently, until the monster catches the musky scent of his pussy again and no longer needs his help, blunt nose bumping at Quentin's hip and the curve of his ass before he feels Jeff's tongue across the back of his thigh, head dropping with a shaky breath. "Ohhh-kay. There you go. Good boy, Jeff."

Another low growl answers him before Quentin reaches back, gently hooking his hand around one of Jeff's front legs to urge him forward, and the shark quickly understands, feet planted on either side of Quentin's waist as his hips draw forward, claspers sliding through the fuzz on Quentin's outer lips, the slick dripping across his skin. Glancing over his shoulders, he gets an eyeful of teeth that he doesn't need his glasses to see, a sharp noise of warning stopping Jeff from biting down somewhere fleshy.

"Here," Quentin urges, gathering the back of his jacket and then holding it with his telekinesis so the beast has something to bite down on, black eyes considering him for a moment before Jeff does as he's told and sinks his teeth into the fabric, hips starting to work forcefully once he has his grip.

The quick, hard ruts make Quentin groan, heavy claspers rubbing against his hot, eager cunt and hard clit, quietly thankful for his powers and the thin barrier of telekinesis that keeps Jeff's skin from doing some unwanted exfoliation, and he reaches back to tug at his lips, expose himself, the firm tip of one of Jeff's cocks almost immediately catching on his hole before popping out again, making Quentin whimper. "Almost, baby. Good boy, you got this," Quentin coaxes, and Jeff rocks forward a few more times, finding the heat of Quentin's pussy again and quickly sheathing a clasper inside him, tugging at Quentin's blazer like he's dragging him back on his cock as the young mutant chokes on a moan, dropping his grip on his labia to let his cunt swallow Jeff entirely. "Oh, fuck."

Jeff seems more than content with just one cock in him, muffled growls making Quentin tremble as his hips work at a clumsy, frantic pace, Quentin's elbows soon wobbling and threatening to give out as Jeff fucks into him relentlessly, hard tip glancing off spots that make him squirm and whine. The clasper that isn't inside him lays against his ass, rubbing hard and heavy against his asshole with each stroke and making his thigh muscles jump at the feeling, chest lowering so he can rest his forehead against the ground as he pants, arms curled around his head as his fingers twist in his hair, holding on for dear life.

"Shit shit shit- oh, fuck, Jeff- g-good boy, fuck, that's a good boy-" The mumbled litany ends up being more for Quentin's sake than anything else, because Jeff's clearly on his own mission, neither deterred nor encouraged by Quentin's words, hips pistoning at the same rate no matter what curses or praise fall from Quentin's lips. "Ohhh, God, fuck- 's so good, baby, c'mon- good boy, fucking daddy's cunt, so good-"

If Quentin ever dies, like, really dies, permanently, he's pretty sure he's going to hell for how wet his pussy is, for the pleasure twisting and building in his gut at being fucked by his pet shark monster, of all things, the gasps and sobs that escape his lips with each deep thrust, but the rest of his racing mind doesn't give a damn when it's so nice, walls clenching around the firm length of cock inside him and sending a shiver up his spine. It earns a loud growl, Jeff's jaws loosening before closing around his jacket again, and the rush of air from his teeth snapping shut makes goosebumps prickle on the back of Quentin's neck, the barely-contained danger making his cunt twitch and gush with a stupid mix of fear and lust.

Quentin can feel Jeff's cock start to swell inside him, long strokes of his hips growing short and harsh as it gets harder to pull out, and Quentin's torn between his hips shifting in discomfort and just fucking drooling on the carpet as his fingers claw at his scalp, the unfurled clasper pressing up against every inch of his walls, dragging against every nerve when Jeff ruts desperately into him. Something hard, harder than the thick muscle of his cock, presses against Quentin's walls, locking into place and making him almost wail when Jeff tugs against it, tears welling up at how it digs at his sensitive cunt, before the landshark finally settles, hips flush against Quentin. 

He can feel the cock laying against his ass start to pulse and jerk, but it's the one inside him that starts to spill, thin, watery cum gushing into Quentin's pussy and making him suck in a harsh breath at how much there is, how it feels. Prying a hand up from where it's tangled in his hair, Quentin reaches between his thighs, rubbing his soaked, stretched cunt before he whimpers and grips his clit, stroking hard and fast towards the orgasm he's been teetering on the edge of this whole time. One hits like a punch, breathless moan forced from his lips as his pussy clenches and squeezes around Jeff's cock, the landshark growling and jerking his hips once, and Quentin pinches harder, rubs faster, until he pushes himself over into a second orgasm that makes him sob and whine, tears dripping across his face as sparks burst behind his eyes.

Dropping his hand from his sore clit, Quentin just lays there, eyes glazed, mouth slack, panting through the pleasure and the aftershocks as Jeff squirms and wiggles above him, paws papping impatiently against the carpet before the monster whines and tries to pull out, making Quentin hiss. "Nonononono- stay, Jeff. Stay, boy. Don't- god, don't do that. What the fuck. Ow."

Jeff whimpers at him but stays put, finally releasing Quentin's jacket to stand over him and pant as his cocks continue to twitch and flex in slower increments, sniffing briefly and licking the back of Quentin's neck and his shaved scalp before Quentin huffs and pushes gently at his nose. "Stop that. Gross, no licking," he chastises.

There's a long, silent moment before Quentin snorts at his own cognitive dissonance.

”Mrr?”

”Nothing, buddy. Don't you worry about it.”

**Author's Note:**

> ...i have nothing to say for myself.
> 
> comments and kudos are love! you can find me at [cass-thebat](https://cass-thebat.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and [BlackBat09](https://twitter.com/BlackBat09) on twitter (NSFW)


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